End Line
by Nezkov Sou
Summary: HiruSena, OneShot, slight AU. 21st of December... I lay unmoving on the bed; him pressed tightly against me. The silence was sickening but I did nothing. Just stayed there...


A/n: This is HiruSena, don't like, don't read. Originally, I wanted to make it multi-chapters, but decided that it's too short.

This story is slightly AU. And from the first person POV. I'm not good at it, keep getting confused with the present and past tenses needed. Oh, this is also a tragedy, slight suspense, a little angst, slight drama and twisted romance.

Illustration can be found in my homepage.

Disclaimer: I do not ES21

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What the hell is that? A human?

No. Something about it said so. Little things like this had never interested me at all. But why now? Was it because I was bored? Tired? Although today was just a normal damn day. Ah, crap. Never mind my day. Now there, in the dumpster. Was that a human? _It's too dark, can't see. _Damn the night. Anyway, why was there a person sitting, as if so comfortable, in that such place? If he was just a drunk or some homeless person, I couldn't care less.

_Argh! But why am I curious to get a good look? Damn. I must be very bored today. Hmph. A little peak would do no harm._

Gravels crunched under my black shoes as I stepped nearer towards the figure leaning against the wall which was dirtied with random not-so-friendly graffiti. The silhouette seemed a little weird… stiff.

_Deformed? Dead? Then I have nothing to do with it._

Before I turned to leave, the hung down head of the figure slowly raise up. The light from the moon reflected in those gleaming honey-brown orbs. He gazed at me with a monotonous expression as if the life inside him had died. It did not dawn on me that my life would change the moment I spotted him.

A young boy he was with dark brown hair, those ochre eyes and slightly tanned complexion. Sixteen to seventeen should I say, despite his small and skinny form. He gazed at me with a look. A look that pierced my chest and melted the stinging cold ice that I had frozen for as long as I knew. The empty hollow of loneliness ripped down those chains on the walls and threw open the locked door; eager to have something inside.

I kept my 'I-know-what-you're-thinking' eyes on his, although I have not the slightest idea of what pieces of mind he had. This look, I had always used on everyone; to get domination and scare the wits off their skins. He did not budge and irritated, I openly glared down at him, barring my fangs. At this, he jumped in surprise and tried to scamper back although he was already against the wall.

"I-I'm sorry! F-forgive me please!" he stuttered, his knees up to his chest.

Amusement struck me, gushing into my hollow chest. The corner of my lips tugged and I smirked. However, the logical part of me thundered back into my head. His appearance was clean; his hair and clothings neat and he seemed well and fit, not starving. I could not see him clearly, but his shoulders and elbows looked odd. From what I could make out, he was clothed in a sleeveless black turtleneck, long light brown pants and a pair of black sneakers.

I stepped forward and he tried to blend into the wall. Kneeling down until I was at eye-level with him, I grabbed his right hand. He jerked violently and a surprised cry slipped out of his arm. However, my attention was not on his reaction, but his arm.

His arm was smooth, flawless, but hard and stiff as if there was no flesh. The thing that startled me was the temperature. It was not the temperature of a human body; colder like the atmosphere. My silted gaze traveled up the arm and reached the elbow. Unconsciously, I hissed in a sharp breath. My eyes grew wide in shock, my heart pounded against my ribcage and whistles rang in my ears. What I saw had never once crossed my mind.

The elbow was not one of a human's. Instead, the upper and lower arms were connected together with a ball of some sort.

Stunned, I kept my eyes fixed on the elbow. _What the fuck does this mean? _Eyes diverted towards the shoulder, I stared at the same but slightly different structure as the elbow. "What the fuck are you?" I voiced out and my emerald green eyes glared at the frightened honey-brown ones.

"I-I… I'm a puppet…" he averted his eyes to his knees; unable to bear the eye contact.

Silence stretched between us. _A puppet, huh? As in those wooden dolls moved by attached strings? So, it's just a toy. Heh. Judging by the location, it must either have been thrown away or its previous owner had somehow left. Ah, fuck that. This is my first encounter with a living puppet. Might as well use it till it totally breaks beyond repair._

Releasing my grip on his arm, which then dropped to his side, I pushed myself up to my feet. "Stand" I ordered.

He gave me a questioning look and irritated again, I raised my voice, "Stand, fucking puppet!"

He practically jumped and scrambled up, his height just passed my shoulders. It amused me to no end seeing his frantic reactions, making me want to toy him further. _Well, I've got plenty of time._

"Come," without further delay, I headed to the direction of my home. The sound of gravels crunching by another pair of shoes followed behind me and a smirk lit my face.

_Ooh… this is gonna be fun. Now that the fucking puppet is mine, I can do damn anything to it._

The road was almost pitch; the streetlamps broken and the only light came from some houses or shops. I was familiar with this atmosphere. Ironically, I brought this kind of atmosphere with me everywhere I go no matter what time of the day. It did not bother me and yet everyone knew well enough to run off when they saw me; even hearing my name.

The gloomy apartment where I lived came into view. The soft but flat footsteps behind me marked that the fucking puppet was still following me, not daring to defy my orders. Of course no one dared. After all, I was the Commander of Hell.

The metal staircase creaked under me. Ignoring it, I reached my floor and headed to my home. My steps echoed in the dark empty corridor; no sound of lives came from anywhere. Not a single word had come from the fucking puppet behind me throughout the whole walk home. It did not matter whether he tripped and fell, as long as I could still play him.

Reaching the 13th door, I stuck in my key and the lock opened with a loud clack that bounced off the walls and rang through the empty floor. I stepped in and switched on the lights. "In" was all I needed to say and the puppet entered what would be his new home. With my right foot, I kicked the door shut and brought my attention to the other occupant in the room.

"Let me get things straight," I began while closing in the distance between the fucking puppet and me, "you obey my words without arguments or I'll shoot holes into you." And from my back, I pulled out a random shotgun and reloaded, "Got it, fucking puppet?"

His unnerved and frightened-to-death expression and trembling body was enough to answer my question. I smirked openly, "You better get used to your new life here or I'll make sure your sorry ass will be on fire." And without another word, I left him where he was and attended to my laptop.

_Things will be fun now._

* * *

"Fucking puppet, get the newspaper."

"Yes, sir."

"Fucking puppet, coffee."

"Right away, sir."

"Fucking puppet, wash the dishes."

"Yes, sir. Here's your paper and coffee."

"Fucking puppet, clean the house."

"Understood, sir."

Well, that should do it for now. Hell, weekends used to be some boring shit days. But now there's this fucking puppet I could toy. Hmph, what luck I had.

The warmth and bitter taste of the coffee made contact with my tongue while my emerald eyes scanned the front page of the news. Just some boring unimportant stuffs. It was not my business if some homicide guy was finally arrested. Setting the ceramic mug and paper on the kitchen table, I amused myself with the sight of the fucking puppet bustling around the house cleaning every spot he could. Sometimes, a creak would be emitted from his joints and he would stop what he was doing to adjust the slightly jammed joints before continuing his assigned work. As long as the fucking puppet could still move, it did not matter to me, since it was what might be expected from a dumped puppet.

It had never occurred to me that this day would come; the day where there would be another life in my house. Ever since that bastard, who had made me exist in this fucking world, left without a word, I had hated people. Betrayal was their past time and survival was for the fittest. Like it or not, I had to struggle to survive.

I kept my gaze at him; my emerald shards dragged along his stiff body. Without thinking, I got up from the chair, strode across the kitchen and loomed behind him. Upon seeing my shadow cast on him, he stopped wiping the counter and glanced at me, anxious. None too gently, I grabbed his right hand and brought it near my face to examine. The fingers were so artificial, each joint mechanical that I could peer into the holes and made out various tiny wire-like things.

I ignored his stuttered attempt to ask what I was doing and, his hand still in my left hand; I reached out my other hand and touched his face. He jumped in surprise of the sudden closeness and threw his mouth shut, obviously frightened. I thumbed his smooth cheek and the coldness seeped through my skin. The chillness made him as if a living corpse.

"Can you feel my touch?" I voiced out absent-mindedly while caressing his face.

He hesitated for a while, "…I can't feel anything…" his gaze fell to the floor, breaking the eye contact, " I don't know what feeling is…" his voice trailed off into silence.

The ticking of the clock dominated the atmosphere, sounding blaring in my ears. An invisible chain tightened around my chest, clamping my heart, making breathing an arduous task. The pit of my stomach began to boil and clench. A nauseous sensation washed over me. How did it feel to not be able to feel? A question that I could never answer; nor could a puppet answer because it had never felt how it was to be able to feel.

"…Then you won't be able to feel this, will you?" slowly bending down, I pressed my lips on his cold stiff ones. He flinched in surprise but did nothing to resist. The kiss lasted short, and I pulled away.

_A cold painful kiss…_

He gazed up at me with those wide honey-brown orbs, surprised by the sudden action.

_Hating humans; loving puppets… is this right?_

"Do you feel anything here?" I touched his chest lightly, the place where a heart should be. Instead, a silent hollow sounded. No heartbeat. But it did not matter. As long as he was still alive, nothing mattered. "Stay by my side. Don't ever leave me." I ruffled his hair and strode away.

If only I had waited for him to reply, I would not have been this panic.

Returning home from school, I found him sprawled on the floor, face upwards, eyes shut. He lied in that same position, silent as death. The first thought that came across me was, 'Is he asleep?' But my logic countered, 'Puppets do not sleep.' I could feel my stomach clenching, ready to throw out whatever was inside me.

"Hey…" my calm tone surprised me. Was not I supposed to be worried? I stepped slowly to him, as if afraid to wake him up. But would he…? "…Wake up."

Kneeling down, I slid my hand behind his head, the dark brown hair soft to my touch. With gentleness I never thought I possessed, I cradled his body in my arms, pressing him tightly to me. The coldness of his body sipped through my attire and pricked my skin like ice shards.

"_Stay by my side. Don't ever leave me." _Now only did I realized that I never heard an answer to that command.

"…Sir…?"

I glanced down into honey-brown eyes which had always stared up at me. I could not describe the sudden electric spark that shocked through me. Should I call it gladness or relief? This feeling that rushed into me.

"Is something the matter?" upon realizing where he was, he sat up on his own, leaving my arms. Then he switched his attention back to me, gazing with concern I never received.

"Didn't I tell you?" the words tight in my throat, "Not to ever leave me?"

He appeared confused for a while before recalling previous events. "I-I'm sorry! I w-was out for a bit!" he stuttered and began to fidget. Those actions that I found amusing just the day before did not amuse me now.

"What do you mean by out? Puppets don't need any sleep." I did not realize that I spoke those words with monotone. Normal people would have been more emotional in this kind of situations. But I'm not normal, am I?

"T-that…" he dropped his gaze onto the floor and did not say anything. I was not the most patient person and I grabbed his cold hand, "Spill it, fucking puppet."

He looked up at me for a brief moment but decided that the floor was much more interesting.

"This is an order," I growled and he flinched. He appeared doubting but following my command, he lowered his head so that his bangs covered his eyes, and he began his short story.

* * *

He was created seventeen years ago, in a secluded area of the country. He was told, by his creator, what he was: a puppet. And he was born to follow and complete orders. Rebels were forbidden and feelings impossible. Even if his limbs were broken, slashed, chopped or whatever, he would still move if his head was still intact. However, he had a lifespan… that was a little near eighteen years…

At the beginning of his seventeenth year, he had slipped out of consciousness for the first time. That was the sign that he was nearing his end. Shocked by the fainted puppet, his owner at that time had thrown him away; assuming that he was already over. He was then picked up by a second owner and she had been scared when he blacked out again. He was then thrown out for incompetence. One after another, each new owner would throw him away upon encountering with one or two of his 'out's which were growing more frequent. He could not be labeled as 'second-hand'. But more than that…

* * *

"…and finally, you found me, sir."

I stared at his head, unable to identify the strings of emotions that crept up on me throughout his story; a story I had never listened to, a story I did not want to believe.

"…I…" he began in a whisper, "…I was created on the 21st of December… that is… less than two weeks time… I may di-stop moving earlier… I don't know…"

He could not use the word 'die; since he was not a living being. Was he? Was he not?

"Isn't there… any way to prevent your end…?" I was not thinking when I said that. He shot his head up as if surprised by my words; but yes, he was.

"Ar-aren't you going to throw me out, sir?"

"Why would I?" a blunt answer. His face showed how shocked he was. Fuck the creator. If this was not a feeling, then what was it? The aftershock subsided and when he remembered my original question, he shook his head lightly.

"No… there's no way to prevent my end. Everything has its end, even a human," a sad smile crossed his face; but a smile nevertheless, "This is the only thing that I have which resemblances a human: the end. And I'm happy at the least…"

_Ain't I right? Fuck the creator and his 'feelings are impossible' statement. This puppet here is feeling happy. I'm surprised that such an idiot could create a living puppet. A living being doesn't mean that flesh and blood are necessary. As long as it has a soul, it is alive…_

"But still…" his soft voice broke my train of thoughts, "still… I really want to be human… I want to know what sleeping is… what eating is…what feeling is… and I really want to feel your touch, sir." Those pleading eyes that held unfelt pain locked with my blank emerald ones.

"Through my seventeen years of life, I know that we kiss someone that we like. And I really like you, sir. You are the first person to have treated me so kindly. All my previous owners used me as a tool to do risky life and death jobs. But you did not…" his voice trailed off into murmurs, "…I really want to be human…"

_I really want you to be human too… _I gazed at him, unable to say anything. What should I feel? When I know the deadline; literally the deadline, the end line? I could not distinguish the thousands of emotions that swirled inside me. One was nauseous, ready to throw up. Two was roaring, eager to grab some firearms and shoot randomly. And so many others, I could not sort them out. Instead, I did what my instinct told me to. I pulled him into an embrace.

"…That Fucking Creator is a real idiot…"

I raised his puzzled face to me, and bending down, I kissed his pale cold lips.

Such a painful love…

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15_th__ of December…_

He was out again. This time in the morning. I found him on the kitchen floor. The talk we had had been engraved in my mind so clearly that I had nightmares of it. And seeing him sprawled on the floor did nothing to ease my nervousness. In a split second, I was by his side. I had no idea what I had to do to wake him, so I just sat there; him in my arms, waiting.

I had never felt so powerless before. There was not a single thing I could do to help him. I knew that fact very well, but a small part of me wanted to do something, anything. It was like fighting a losing battle. I sat on the kitchen floor, cradling him for what felt like three hours until he opened his eyes.

He had not ended. Not yet…

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18_th__ of December…_

His series of going 'out' was becoming much more frequent recently. In a day, he could fall unconscious at least four times, each lasting for more than three hours. Some days, it felt as if he was never awake. Many times I thought that he had ended, but I refused to believe. And he opened his eyes.

Ain't I right?

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20_th__ of December…_

"Hey… tonight come with me to bed."

He glanced up at me, "…But I do not sleep…"

"Never mind. Just stay by my side."

20th of December. Just a day before… before the end…

One arm draped around him and the other under my head. We stared into each other's eyes, not knowing what to say but knowing that this was our last meeting.

"Um… sir…?"

I gave a small 'Hm?' as a reply.

"Do you believe in reincarnation?"

Reincarnation, huh? That would be a miracle.

"No," was my answer, "but if it existed and you reincarnated… I'll make sure that I'm your first owner. And I will never throw you away."

He looked dumbfounded, but a genuine happy smile crossed his lips, "Thank you, sir."

"Do you… what is your name?"

His eyes began to flutter shut, "…Kobayakawa… Sena…"

"I'm Hiruma Youichi…"

He gazed up at me and with what seemed like his final strength, he pressed his lips gently against mine. And he whispered, "I love you, Hiruma Youichi-san…"

Those three words… for me… from him…

"I love you too, Sena…"

I could feel his smile against my lips…

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21_st__ of December…_

I lay unmoving on the bed; him pressed tightly against me. The silence was sickening but I did nothing. Just stayed there. His body was stiff and eyes closed.

Never would he wake up again… Never would I see his smile again…

_Reincarnation? Don't fuck with me. There's no such thing._

…_But why is it me? Who should fall for such a painful love?_

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End Line


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